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15 MINUTES 

WITH 

SIDNEY LANIER, 

BY 
GUSTAF R. WESTFELDT. 



NEW ORLEANS. 1915. 
MEADE a SAMPSELL, PRINT. 



FROM 

HOWAUD MSl'iORIAL LIBRARY 
^EW ORIiEAIfS.LA. 



FIFTEEN MINUTES 

WITH 

SIDNEY LANIER 



A PAPER READ FEB. 10. 1903, ON THE 

OCCASION OF UNVEILING A BUST OF 

THE POET AT TULANE UNIVERSITY, 

NEW ORLEANS 



.BY. 



CUSTAF R..\A/ESTFELDT. 



1^^l\ 



JN EXCKAi^QE 



dUN f 3 t915 



FIFTEEN MINUTES WITH SIDNEY LANIER. 

Mr. President, ladies, and gentlemen, it is to me a very 
great pleasure to see, in the occasion of this meeting, evi- 
dence that Tulane University has enshrined in her heart 
this poet, for the University and this poet are good friends 
to me ; to each I owe very mvich. 

Sidney Lanier has helped so many of us to hold our 
ideals higher than they would otherwise have been, and to 
carry these ideals into our daily lives, that I would I had 
the tongue of men and angels to bring to you some one 
ray that had escaped your notice of the gospel that he had 
to preach. If he were here he would, perhaps, tell us some- 
thing of king Arthur, of his upbuilding and upholding of 
woman ; of his loving service to God and man. Perhaps he 
might urge that he had found the sympathetic more 
uplifting than the critical attitude: the sympathetic atti- 
tude that helps us to see the best, the divine, that 
surely is in everybody and everything, and in return 
to give of our very best : that was Lanier's attitude : 
he rejoiced in his recognition of the good, and in 
return he has left us a few volumes, teeming with living 
thoughts written, literally, with his very heart's blood. Per- 
haps, if he were here, he might dwell on his "Catholic man, 
who hath mightily won God out of knowledge, and good 
out of infinite pain, and sight out of blindness, and purity 
out of a stain," he might present his view of the thought 
conveyed by this completeness of character. He might re- 
mind us that character has three sides : the cognitive, or 
intellectual: the feeling: and the willing, tlie energetic side: 
that these are the interdependent walls of the complete tri- 



angular building of character. For instance he might urge 
that it is a good thing to understand the rising of the sun 
from the scientific side : to understand that the heat of the 
sun is the great chemist of the universe : to analyze its light, 
to knoiv why it looks like a bee-hive and a bee at its first 
appearance, and then gradually assumes a round evenly lit 
appearance: but he would add, I think, that it is also good 
to feel the hope that the sunrise brings to our hearts, to feel, 
in it, the assurance of never-ending forgiveness, to soak in 
its increasing v^^armth, to be thankful, and to bend our wills 
to the day's ivork. As an illustration let me read just one 
stanza of his "Sunrise," his culminating work. 

"Thou chemist of storms, whether driving the winds 

a-swirl, 
"Or a flicker the subtiler essences polar that whirl 
"In the magnet Earth, yea, thou with a storm for a heart, 
"Rent with debate, many-spotted with question, part 
"From part oft sundered, yet ever a glob-ed light, 
"Yet ever the artist, ever more large and bright 
"Than the eye of a man may avail of : manifold one, 
"I must pass from thy face, I must pass from the face 

of the sun : 
"Old w'ant is awake and agog, every wrinkle a-frov>n , 
"The worker must pass to his work in the terrible town : 
"But I fear not, nay, and I fear not the thing to be done; 
"I am strong with the strength of my lord the Sun — 
"How dark, how dark soever the race that must needs 

be run, 
'T am lit with the Sun." 



He might say, if he were here today, that it is a good 
thing to knozv the analyses of the different woods, to meas- 
ure tlie annual rings of a tree, to study its life, to try to un- 
derstand the economies of forestry ; but it is also good to 
listen to the whispering of the leaves, to take sanctuary in 
the forest, to love the trees individually and collectively, to 
be at home in the woods ; to give oneself over to the woodsy 
scents ; to come oat strong, at peace, and ready for the sac- 
rifice ; just read again his ballad of the "Trees and the Mas- 
ter," and 'be thankful. It is good to hnozv hozv the rain rises 
to the clouds, falls on the mountains, lingers with the trees, 
and slips back to the shore ; but it is also good to loll on 
the sands, to listen to the sea stories of the shells, to sur- 
render yourself to the curling surf, to feci the glory of a 
header from the rocks, to listen to the moaning of the bar, 
and the baby prattle of the ripples, to soar with the clouds 
to the mountain tops ; to see your sweetheart's eyes in the 
mountain springs ; to sing the songs and live the life of the 
brook, and then to harness the water power for the mill 
that grinds the baby's bread. It is good to trace step by 
step, by the light of science, the lines of life back from to- 
day to what we call "their beginnings," because we can't see 
any further ; but it is also good to feci that there must have 
been a primal, persistent, purposeful cause, a God who in- 
cludes all. wdio is merciful, giving us free wills and zvork. 
The historian must not only study the dates of so-called 
"facts." bat he must also enter into the inner life, the feel- 
ings of the peoples, otherwise his so-called "fact" falls to 
dust even as dead men's bones. 



The doctor must be versed in his sciences, but his suc- 
cess is based larg-ely upon his abiHty to enter into the feel- 
ings, to acquire the confidence of his patients. 

How could the painter express his thought, his very 
self, on canvass without the technicalities of drawing, the 
feeling for color, and work, and work, and work again? 
Even in commerce you cannot describe a market by figures 
alone : the tone, the feeling, is quite as important as the 
price — and indeed very often the feeling is the most im- 
portant factor in a description of a market ; and, of course, 
the man who relies on statistics alone has a very short com- 
mercial career. 

A friend of mine, Mr. Heileman Wilson, wrote a very 
short article on the genius of Lanier some twelve years ago ; 
let me read a few excerpts from this article, that appeal 
to me. He says of Lanier: "He is no constant brooder 
over fate and destiny — there is present in him no doubt as 
to man's place or mission in life." "(Ine of his most evi- 
dent characteristics of greatness is the accuracy with which 
he can mold words into expressing the most subtle shades 
of meaning." "As to his conception of the mission of 
poetry he himself says 'my experience in the varying judg- 
ments given about poetry have all converged upon one soli- 
tary principle — that principle is that the artist put forth, 
humbly and lovingly, without 'bitterness against opposition, 
the very best and highest that is in him, utterly regardless 
of contemporary criticism.' " "To rob life of its misery and 
evil, to spiritualize it, was the dominant passion of his soal, 
and to this end he dedicated every power of brain and pul- 
sation of heart." "He strenuously opposed the lawlessness 



of love in that type which was portrayed and commended 
by Shelley, Swinburne, and Whitman. He was intolerant 
of an emotion which, for very self-shame, masqueraded 
under another name tlian its rightful one." "Lanier be- 
lieved, as did Shelley in the perfectibility of man, but it was 
a perfection wiiich was to be reached through other 
avenues than those into whose vistas the literary product of 
the French Revolution was continually looking. ') 

Just think of some of the incidents of Sidney Laniers 
life. First and always an unquenchable thirst for music, 
for knowledge, for relf -realization in help to the world. I 
intentionally separate music and knowledge, for he main- 
tained positively that music does not appeal to the cognitive 
activities of man, but to his feeling. Then a school where 
he knew he was not getting the best for which he was fitted. 
The war at 19 — camp-life — 'battle — capture — languishing 
in prison — the well-defined beginnings of the disease that 
tortured him incessantly and finally killed him. The drudg- 
erv of law studies, most irksome to him — the wonderful 
search for and acquirement of knowledge — the self-educa- 
tion. The joy brought by the heart of a woman who un- 
derstood him, believed in him, suffered with him, upheld 
him to the end, and who, since his passing, is giving her life 
to the work of spreading the skirts of his gospel-light. Then 
the separations made necessary by his search for health, 
and by poverty, absolute poverty. -Let me read just a page 
or two of his referring to this period from an early unre- 
vised poem entitled, "J""^ Dreams in January ;" — the young 
poet had just finished a few verses and soliloquizes thus: 



Then he that wrote laid down his pen and sighed ; 

And straightway came old Scorn and Bitterness, 

Like Hunnish kings out of the barbarous land, 

And camped tipon the transient Italy 

That he had dreamed to blossom in his soul. 

"I'll date this dream, he said; so: 'Given, these, 

On this, the coldest night in all the year, 

From this, the meanest garret in the world, 

In this, the greatest city in the land, 

To you, the richest folk this side of death. 

By one, the hungriest poet under heaven, 

— Writ while his candle sputtered in the gust. 

And while his last, last ember died of cold, 

And while the mortal ice i' the air made free 

Of all his bones and bit and shrunk his heart. 

And while soft Luxury made show to strike 

Her glov-ed hands together, and to smile 

What time her weary feet unconsciously 

Trod wheels that lifted Avarice to power, 

— And while, moreover, — O thou God, thou God — 

His worshipful sweet wife sat still, afar. 

Within the village whence she sent him forth 

Into the town to make his name and fame. 

Waiting, all confident and proud and calm. 

Till he should make for her his name and fame, 

Waiting — O Christ, how keen this cuts ! — large-eyed, 

With Baby Charley till her husband make 

For her and him a poet's name and fame.' 

— Read me," he cried, and rose, and stamped his foot 

Impatiently at Heaven, "read me this," 

(Putting th' inquiry full in the face of God) 

"Why can we poets dream us beauty, so. 



lUit cannot dream us bread? Why. now. can I 

Make, aye, create this fervid throbbing June 

Dut of the chill, chill matter of my soul, 

Yet cannot make a poorest penny-loaf 

Out of this same chill matter, no, not one 

For Mary though she starve upon my breast?" 

And then he fell upon his couch, and sobbed, 

And, late, just when his heart leaned o'er 

The very edge of breaking, fain to fall, 

God sent him sleep. There came his room-fellow. 

Stout Dick, the painter, saw the written dream, 

Read, scratched his curly pate, smiled, winked, fell on 

The poem in big-hearted comic rage. 

Quick folded, thrust in envelope, addressed 

To him, the critic-god, that sitteth grim 

And giant-grisly on the stone causeway 

That leadeth to his magazine and fame. 

Him, by due mail, the little Dream of June 

Encountered growling, and at nnawares 

Stole in upon his poem-battered soul 

So that he smiled, — then shook his head upon't 

— Then growled, then smiled again, till at the last, 

As one that deadly sinned against his will, 

He writ upon the margin of the Dream 

A wondrous, wondrous word that in a day 

Did turn the fleeting song to very bread, 

— Whereat Dick Painter leapt, the poet wept, 

And Mary slept, with happy drops a-gleam 

Upon long lashes of her serene eyes, 

From twentieth readings of her poet's news 

Ouick-sent. "O sweet, mv Sweet, to dream is power. 



And I can dream thee bread and dream thee wine, 
And I tvill dream thee robes and gems, dear love, 
To clothe thy loveHness withal, 
And I will dream thee here to live by me, 
Thee and my little man thou hold'st at breast, 
■ — Come, Name, come Fame, and kiss my Sweet- 
heart s feet !' 

Then the generous appreciative helping hand of the 
Johns Hopkins University, that enabled him to live and 
work for a few years. If you know the story of how he 
had to nurse every pound of physical energy in order to 
last through an hour's lecture, you know something of this 
brave man's heart. Then death at last came to him in the 
shadow of the Blue Ridge. At noon the day before he died 
my mother received, by stage coach, a letter from our life- 
long friend, Mrs. Lanier, who was about 30 miles away. At 
once my mother sent me on horseback over the hills, saddle 
bags packed with stimulants and tonics. It is a beautiful 
ride from the valley of the French Broad over the shoulder 
of Tryon Mountain to the Atlantic v/atershed. I found Mr. 
Lanier far gone, propped up in a chair, he could only speak 
by snatches — he was glad to see me, talked much of my 
father, whom he thoroughly appreciated, and whom he and 
iSlrs. Lanier have honored most lovingly in the dedication 
of "Sunrise." Next morning was bright and sunny, he was 
very earnest in his thanks for a few morning-glories picked 
on his porch ; said they were his favorite flowers, called the 
view of the mountains through the bay-window "his com- 



pensation," spoke of others, not of himself. Just we three 
were there ; at about ten o'clock that morning he was free 
to float by his friend, the Sun. You remember the last lines 
of tlje "Sunrise?" 

"And ever by day shall my spirit, as one that hath tried 

thee. 

Labor, at leisure in art, — till yonder beside thee 
My soul shall float, friend Sun, 
The day being done." 

Now with the picture of his life in mind, think of the 
optimistic attitude of the man ; doesn't it shame us that 
sometimes those of us who are strong enough, and mod- 
erately sure of the immediate needs of daily life, lose heart 
and sink into hopelessness? And how was it that he at- 
tained and kept this optimistic attitude?: To my mind it 
seems because he recognized the beauty of building up and 
maintaining the three sides of character, namely: the cog- 
nitive, or knowing side — the feeling side — and the willing 
side, the side of energy. If any man depends on any one, 
or any two of these sides, it seems to me that he is apt, 
ultimately, to sink into hopelessness ; but the man who 
strives to build up and maintain these three sides equally, 
will, in my opinion, surely develop the divine that is in him, 
and, perhaps, that is optimism. Let us keep this energetic, 
loving, thoughtful man in mind, and listen to his words and 
to his life. Truly a couplet of his own most aptly describes 
him : 

"His song was only a living aloud 
His work, a singing with his hand." 



SIDNEY LANIER 

was born at Macon, Ga., in 1842; died at 
Lynn, N. C, in 1881. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

"Alusic and Poetry," a volume of essays, i2mo $i-50 

"The English Novel," a study in the development of 

personality, crown 8 vo 2.00 

"The Science of English Verse," crown 8 vo 2.00 

"Poems," edited by his wife, with a memorial by Wil- 
liam Hayes Ward, with portrait, 12 mo 2.00 

"Select Poems of Sidney Lanier," edited, with an in- 
troduction and notes by Professor Morgan Callo- 
way, Jr., L^niversity of Texas, 12 mo., net i.oo 

"The Boys' Library of Legend and Chivalry," edited 
by Sidney Lanier, comprising 

"The Boys' Froissart," by Alfred Kappes, 

"The Boys' King Arthur." by Alfred Kappes. 

"The Boys' Mabinogion," by Alfred Fredericks, 

-The Boys' Percy," by E. B. Bendell, 

8 vo., each ' 2.00 

The Set in a Box 7-00 

Posthumous Publications 

"Letters of Sidney Lanier." edited by H. W. Lanier 
and Mrs. Sidney Lanier. 

"Shakspere and his Forerunners," edited by H. W. 
Lanier. 

First Works. 

"Tiger Lilies," a Novel. 
"A Guide Book to Florida." 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



016 117 937 



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